


Every Medal Has A Gold Lining

by IronPhoenixAshe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Dancing, Drinking, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Kinda, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, silver medal kink, tooth-rotting smut, warning: copious amounts of dorks adoring each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPhoenixAshe/pseuds/IronPhoenixAshe
Summary: Yuuri finally let's loose and has a little fun after a hard fought eight months, all culminating in a silver medal win at the Grand Prix Final.Chris is a hopeless flirt.Yurio is as pissed as ever.Otabek is a pillar of sanity.And Yuuri is a relentless tease and Victor is drowning in him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was really hoping to see some Grand Prix banquet scenes during the finale of Yuri!!! on Ice, so I finally gave in and wrote one, and it became a hopeless mess of tooth-rotting smut. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also if you ever want to chat about these gay dorks find me on [tumblr](http://ironphoenixashe.tumblr.com) or check out my [art blog!](http://ironphoenixart.tumblr.com)

My name is Yuuri Katsuki and I'm this year's Grand Prix Final Men's Single silver medalist. If you asked me eight months ago where I thought I would be at this point in time, I would have never thought it would be here at the Grand Prix banquet, silver medal hanging proudly back in the hotel room I am sharing with my childhood idol and surrounded by my fellow competitors, whom I have slowly come to see as my friends. My life has been completely turned on its head, and it's all thanks to the appearance of a particular silver-haired Russian, Victor Nikiforov.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri absent-mindedly toyed with the ring sitting heavy on his finger as he reflected on the events of his life that brought him to this moment, a fond smile playing at his lips. A part of himself couldn't believe this was all actually real and another couldn't see his life playing out any other way. He didn't want it to be any other way.

"My, don't you seem pleased with yourself," An amused voice spoke in accented English, breaking his train of thought. Yuuri lifted his eyes to meet a pair of bright green ones belonging to a certain Swiss skater dressed impeccably in a dark suit and green tie.

"Chris," Yuuri greeted with a smile. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that," He replied. Despite living in Detroit for five years there was still a hint of his own accent that clung to the syllables.

"So selfish, Yuuri. You truly have gone and stolen him from the world," Christophe lamented, a teasing grin playing on his lips. The blond sighed and took a sip from the glass of champagne he was nursing. Both of them had their gaze trained on the silver-haired man in question, who was dressed in a navy three-piece number that put every other person in the room to shame.

Victor was chatting animatedly with a few ISU officials, utterly oblivious to them at the moment. To see Victor so enthusiastically playing the role of a half decent coach was more than a little amusing.

"What can I say, I'm a greedy man," Yuuri teased back. Christophe whistled softly in response.

"And bold too, I have to say I'm a little disappointed I didn't have a chance to play with you a little more," Chris winked and Yuuri choked in response. "Victor is just as sinful as you, keeping you all to himself. But if you should ever change your mind I'll be around, mon chéri," Chris let his index finger trail under Yuuri's chin, tipping his head up just so as he sauntered away.

Yuuri swallowed hard, trying to fight back the heat he felt rising up his face. He knew Chris was only teasing him, being in a relationship of his own, but the insinuation was enough to get him hot under the collar. With a breathy chuckle, he ran his fingers through his dark hair, mussing it a bit as he shook his head. He had decided just then that he indeed needed a drink. He didn't want to repeat his antics from last year, but certainly one couldn't have hurt.

He had quickly made his way through the crowd to the drink table, downing a flute in one shot as he tugged on the red tie that felt just a little too tight around his neck.

"Wow!" He heard a familiar Russian voice exclaim from behind him. Yuuri turned to meet those icy blue eyes that still cut through him with the same intensity as the first time he saw them.

"What happened to pacing yourself?" Victor asked, a teasing lilt to his tone.

"Chris happened," Yuuri answered matter of factly, another glass already raised to his lips. Victor hummed empathetically as he procured a glass of his own.

"He certainly has that effect on people doesn't he," Victor chuckled.

"He does," Yuuri agreed.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as they drank and watched their fellow competitors mingle and dance the night away. The atmosphere was the complete opposite of what it had been a year ago, a change that Yuuri welcomed. Last year he was all but dragged to the event, completely unwilling to interact with anyone and desiring only to drink his sorrows away. His tactic was unfortunately so effective he managed to drown out all his memories of the event, although perhaps it was a blessing he couldn't recall his cringeworthy actions. This time around he was actually enjoying himself and with Victor by his side, it was a memory he didn't want to soon forget.

Yuuri glanced over at the man, his boyfriend, no fiancé, god would he ever get used to those words? His rich brown eyes trailed to Victor's hand, which held a narrow glass, where his golden ring brightly glittered with reflected light from overhead. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to grab that hand and kiss the ring upon it, to pull Victor away from the table, into his arms, and recreate the memories he had long lost.

"Yuuri," His attention snapped up to Victor's face at the sound of his name, where the man's eyes were now trained on him, a smirk playing at his lips. If Yuuri didn't know any better it was like he could hear his thoughts.

"You know, you still haven't told me what I could kiss instead of that gold medal," Victor pouted exaggeratedly, taking Yuuri's hand in his own. His lips hovered just centimeters from the golden band that rested proudly on his right-hand ring finger. The black-haired man could feel the flush he had just chased away returning ten-fold as he looked down at Victor, bent over and peering at him through silver bangs with a teasing gaze, his lips, surely curled upward in an equally smug grin, hidden behind the knuckles of his own hand. The underlying meaning of Victor's words was far from lost on him.

After a moment Yuuri swallowed his embarrassment and pulled his hand from Victor's grasp, bringing his hand to cup the side of Victor's face instead. Yuuri could have sworn he caught those blue eyes widen for a fraction of a second as he coaxed the man to stand up fully. Brushing his thumb over his cheek Yuuri took a step forward, leaning into Victor so close their faces brushed, his breath hot against the Russian's ear as he spoke.

" _I don't want to kiss it unless it's gold_ ," He murmured before pulling away, his fingers skimming the silver locks that fell over Victor's right eye as he did. Without daring to look back at the man's reaction Yuuri turned and wandered off into the crowd. He quickly found Phichit and dragging the eager party to the dance floor without exchanging a word. His face was far too hot and his heart beating far too hard in his chest, he had to work the nervous energy out of his body and he knew Phichit would happily to oblige him without question.

Had Yuuri dared a glance back at the man behind him he would have been met with the sight of Victor's slack-jawed face, painted an unexpected shade of pink.

  

* * *

 

 

One drink had, unsurprisingly, turned into many.

“ _Yuriooooo_ ,” Victor whined, his accent thicker than before. “Why is my Yuuri so cruel!” He draped himself over the smaller Russian skater, visibly distraught.

“Would you quit clinging to me! I don’t give a shit about you and the Pig’s problems. And that’s not my name!” The blond snapped as he attempted to free himself from the much older, much drunker skater's grasp.

“I think I really messed up this time, Yurio,” Victor continued as though he didn’t hear a word the boy said, “I told him I didn’t want to kiss his medal unless it was gold and now he won’t kiss me!”

“Tell it to someone that gives a shit! It’s your own fault anyway,” Yuri retorted, frantically looking for anyone to help him escape this situation. His eyes met Mila’s and he shot her a pleading look, to which she simply shook her head and laughed, clearly intent on watching him suffer.

“Both Yuris are so meeean,” The silver-haired man complained, completely oblivious to his captor’s discomfort as he tightened his unyielding grip on the angry teen.

Yuri grit his teeth as he tried to bite back the utter contempt he felt for the older Russian. Desperately he locked eyes with Otabek, silently imploring him to help, ‘Please Beka, do something’.

His message must have gotten through because the normally stoic teen then spoke up.

“Why don’t you just talk to him,” Otabek offered. Everything froze for a moment. Victor stopped rocking Yuri and looked up at the dark-haired boy from his doubled over position, his face devoid of all expression. Briefly, Mila and Yuri exchanged glances as Otabek and Victor stared at each other.

“Of course, I’ll just make him want me so bad he’ll forget all about kissing gold!” Victor grinned as he detangled himself from the blond, much to the boy’s relief. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” He said, patting Otabek’s face. The teen visibly stiffened at the unwarranted touch.

“That’s not… you know what I don’t care. Fuck you both,” Yuri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Language Yurio,” Victor scolded disapprovingly, wagging a finger at the boy before turning back to Otabek, “Take care of our feisty little Kitten okay?” He said cheerfully as he left in search of his enchanting fiancé.

Mila burst out in roaring laughter and Yuri shot daggers into her.

“Oh lighten up Yura, you are far too young to be such a grumpy old man,” Mila teased, ruffling the blond’s hair. Yuri immediately pulled away from her and closer to Otabek, grumbling a few choice expletives as he smoothed out his hair.

“Sorry about all that,” He mumbled to the taller boy. The dark-haired teen simply shrugged, looking particularly nonplussed over the scene.

 

* * *

 

“You said _what_?” Phichit exclaimed incredulously. The pair had made their way to one of the few empty tables after a few dances to cool down. It may have also had a little to do with Phichit’s suddenly overwhelming desire for an explanation for his normally demure rink mate’s enthusiastic outburst, but only a little.

“I know I can’t believe I did that, I’m so embarrassed,” Yuuri groaned, bowing his head and tightly gripping his umpteenth glass of champagne in his hands. He hadn’t been keeping track but he knew the warmth he felt was not due to all the bodies in the room. He had already removed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair, but it did little to relieve his discomfort.

“Don’t be, you probably have him wrapped around your finger now,” The Thai skater laughed, patting his friend comfortingly on the back.

“Don’t tease me like that, Phichit,” Yuuri grimaced, the words feeling thick in his mouth from his buzz. He watched the bubbles rising in the golden liquid before him, unwilling to look his friend in the eye.

“I’m serious,” The black-haired boy insisted. “You’d have to be blind not to see that Victor is crazy about you. Even then you would be able to tell after spending thirty seconds with you two,” Phichit reassured the Japanese skater. A solemn smile spread across Yuuri’s face. He wasn’t wrong; Victor was always free with his affections for the younger skater and immensely enjoyed teasing him for the reactions he would get. Yuuri wasn’t sure what reaction he was hoping to get from Victor when he said what he did, but all he knew is he didn’t get it. Perhaps he was a little too harsh to twist his own words against him.

“But still it’s been almost twenty minutes and he hasn’t made a move yet.” Yuuri sighed, draining the last of his champagne. This night was not going in the direction he hoped it would thus far.

“Speak of the devil and he shall come,” Phichit said with a knowing smirk. Yuuri furrowed his brow in confusion as the Thai skater pointedly nodded behind him. Yuuri didn’t get a chance to turn around as a pair of long navy-clad arms wound themselves around his neck.

“ _Yuuuuri_ ,” His voice was hot against Yuuri’s ear, spoken softly but somehow louder than even the music and the din of idle chatter. The sensation sent a pleasant shiver down Yuuri’s spine. “You are such a tease, it’s not fair you know,” Victor pouted as he nuzzled into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Maybe is was the alcohol buzzing in his blood, maybe it was a rare burst of confidence, but just like that, the switch was flipped.

Yuuri closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He stood, Victor’s arms releasing him as he did, removed his glasses and placed them on the table before turning to face his whiny fiancé. Yuuri reached out to place his hand on Victor’s chest, his fingers gently trailing down the silken fabric. Victor’s focus was trained on his hand. Then, Yuuri grabbed a fistful of the fabric and tugged.

“Oh, but I’m just getting started, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri drawled out the name he usually reserved for more intimate situations, the word dripping with seductive want. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he watched Victor forcefully swallow. Taking a few step back Yuuri let the tie slide through his fingers.

“Dance with me,” It wasn’t a question, more of a command; one Victor was more than willing to follow. As the last of the fabric slipped through Yuuri’s fingers, he turned towards the dance floor. Victor followed close behind, like a dog on a leash.

Phichit, having watched the whole scene unfold, sat wide-eyed and gaping, his phone held tightly in his shaking grasp. His Instagram was going to be blowing up after tonight.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Victor murmured as he let his hands settle on Yuuri’s waist.

“Just try to keep up,” Yuuri smiled deviously as he wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck. Victor bit his lip, letting out a shaky breath that was just short of a whimper.

Yuuri swayed his hips along to the beat of the music, an upbeat tempo that had him just shy of grinding up against his partner. Victor gladly followed his lead, entranced just as he had been a year ago, swept up in the motions. This, however, was somehow entirely different, more heated and tense, their movements sharp as the pair came together in a passionate tango. They were entirely wrapped up in each other, completely oblivious to anything and anyone else around them.

Song after song they danced, Victor content to let Yuuri lead him with his lithe movements, his body playing a siren's song that the Russian didn't want to resist. Both on and off the ice Yuuri was utterly enthralling. His skill in dance was something in which Victor would never compare. The tension between the two was electric, buzzing, and building to the point of being nearly unbearable as it set every cell in their bodies singing.

Yuuri dipped Victor with a flourish, pulling him back up as the music came to an end and the intermittent quietness lulled between them. For a moment they stood, so close and deliciously wrapped up in each other, their foreheads pressed together as they gasped for breath. Their eyes locked in an intense gaze when Victor leaned in to close what little distance remained. Yuuri was too quick, moving his head to the side just so that Victor missed his lips entirely.

“Ah, ah, what did I say?” Yuuri hissed against his ear, “I don’t want to kiss it if it’s not gold,” He hummed as he took Victor’s ear in his mouth and nipped it. Victor jolted against him, causing a swell of pride to rise up in Yuuri’s chest.

“Yuuri,” Victor whined, needy and desperate. It was like music to Yuuri’s ears and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, his lips ghosting against the sensitive skin of Victor’s neck. He could hear the breath hitch in Victor’s throat as large hands pressed into his chest to roughly push him away.

Yuuri didn’t have a chance to admire the utterly wrecked expression on Victor’s face before he was being towed through the crowd as Victor cleared a path for the exit. At one point he all but shoved JJ to the ground.

“Victor, wait my—“

“No time, I’m sure Phichit will get them back to you in the morning,” Victor cut him off, already knowing what he would say. He wouldn’t be needing his glasses or jacket anyway.

Victor impatiently punched the button to call the elevator, nearly vibrating with anticipation and arousal. Yuuri would have laughed if he weren’t in an equally frayed state himself. A noise signaling the arrival of the elevator broke the tension in the air and the moment the doors open Yuuri found himself pushed inside and against one of the walls. He barely registered Victor punching their floor number before returning his weight on top of the Japanese skater.

Victor’s hand cupped the side of Yuuri’s face with a gentleness that betrayed the fiery look in his eyes, his thumb stroking his cheek.

“You don’t know what you do to me, _Yu-chan_ ,” His voice was soft quiet but just underneath the calm was a burning want. Yuuri shivered at the sound of that nickname; he’s pretty sure the hardness pressed against his hip is a good indication of just what he is doing to the Russian above him. The silver-haired man leaned down once more in an attempt to claim his fiancé lips when the elevator doors open once more with a soft ding.

Yuuri pushes the taller man off of him, interlacing their fingers as he drags him to their hotel room.

Once inside and the door locked Yuuri pushes Victor onto the bed. He sheds his jacket and lies patiently, as Yuuri rummages through his suitcase. He returns, throwing a bottle on the bed before crawling up onto the mattress, straddling Victor. Immediately blue eyes are drawn to the shining pale medal hanging heavy around Yuuri’s neck, the red tie now discarded in favour of this new decoration.

“Kiss it,” Yuuri demands, towering over Victor with a soft and dangerous grin. The Russian groans, covering his face with his arms.

“Yuuri _please_ ,” He begs, his whole body is thrumming, aching and _god_ he just wants to feel those warm lips against his.

“Victor,” Yuuri starts, his voice low as he pulls the man’s arm away from his face, leaving him exposed and at Yuuri’s mercy, “Kiss it and I’ll give you everything you want and more.” He practically purrs, trailing a hand down Victor’s chest.

He has to bite back the desperate whine threatening to escape. With a huff Victor sits up, grasping the silver medal in his hands. Yuuri places a hand on his cheek, looking down with expectant chocolate eyes. Tentatively he brings the medal to his lips, looking up at Yuuri, and places a slow, careful kiss to the cold, smooth surface. Yuuri’s grin widened and he pulled Victor up to him.

“That’s a good boy, now should I reward you?” Yuuri teases. This time Victor can’t hold back the wounded whimper, every nerve in his body screaming ‘Yes, please _anything_ ’ and Yuuri laughs.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You are just so easy,” His lips brushing tantalizingly against Victor’s as he spoke, the contact hardly enough to quell the fire burning under his skin. With a swift tug he brought the Japanese man down to him in a fervent kiss, wet, hot and oh so deliciously satisfying. Victor groaned loudly and Yuuri responding in earnest as he pushed them both back into the mattress.

Victor pulled away, kissing the corner of Yuuri’s still parted mouth and down his jawline.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, my Yuuri I’ve waited all night for this,” He sighed into his lover’s soft olive skin, licking and nipping at it as he did. When his ears are met with a soft moan he can’t help the smile and swell of pride building in his chest.

“ _Victor_ ,” The way he says his name sends a jolt of heat straight to his already achingly hard groin. Yuuri’s fingers thread through Victor’s silver locks as he makes his way down his fiancé's neck, the other tugging his tie loose and working on the buttons of his waistcoat.

When fabric impedes Victor’s ministrations he makes a frustrated noise and hastily works to remove the offending thing. Once he had all the buttons free both his hands were immediately on Yuuri’s skin, mapping the subtle dips and rises of his muscles. The man above him let out a shaky breath as the Russian’s hands left hot trails on his abdomen, the hand in Victor’s hair gripping tightly.

“Damn it, Victor, you are wearing way too many clothes,” Yuuri complained as he now used both hands to work the buttons of Victor’s dress shirt open.

“You can’t say I didn’t look good, though,” He grinned, leaving hot kisses along Yuuri’s chest as he pushed the shirt from his shoulders. The cool gleam of the silver medal contrasted beautifully against Yuuri’s warm skin.

“You’d look better without them,” The man quipped. When the last button popped open Victor wasted no time shrugging out of the clothing and tossing it aimlessly across the room.

“Better?” The silver-haired man asked coyly.

“Much,” Yuuri hummed in response, pushing him back into the cool, plush bedding as he sucked a kiss into Victor’s pale neck. The man below him moaned appreciatively and he could feel the vibrations on his lips as he made his way down his lover’s sculpted body. Yuuri gently teased one of the Russian’s nipples with his teeth, eliciting a sharp gasp from him as he arched his back into the touch. Yuuri loved that he could bring such reactions out of Victor, see him at his most vulnerable, him and _only_ him.

Yuuri continued his trail down Victor’s body, stopping just above the waist of his pants. Victor rocked his hips upward into Yuuri’s kiss, silently begging for him to go just that little bit further.

Obligingly Yuuri pressed a kiss into Victor’s clothed erection, causing the latter to push upwards again with a groan, as his hands quickly discarded the man’s belt. He pulled the remaining clothing off his fiancé and let them drop in a carelessly crumpled heap to the floor.

“ _So beautiful_ ,” He murmured reverently as he pressed a kiss into the man’s thigh, his thumb rubbing in gentle circles where his hand rested on the opposite.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Victor responded softly, gazing lovingly at the man as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Never breaking eye contact Yuuri’s hand tantalizingly maneuvered up Victor’s thigh, taking him in his hand and letting his tongue graze the tip. Victor inhaled sharply, his eyes sliding shut. And then, without warning, he took the whole head into his mouth and sucked, _hard._

“Oh _shit_!” Victor suddenly cursed in Russian. The Japanese man chuckled and Victor could feel the pleasant vibrations through his dick.

Pleased with Victor’s reaction, Yuuri took more of him into his mouth. Nearly instantly Victor responded by threading a hand in Yuuri’s dark thick hair and rocking his hips up gently. They easily fell into a familiar rhythm that had Victor falling back into the bed, gasping and moaning around two of his own fingers that he had bit down on.

While Yuuri’s mouth worked on Victor’s cock he reached for the bottle he threw on the bed earlier, popping it open. For a moment he pulled off Victor and the man slowly came back to reality with the realization of what Yuuri was doing.

“Is this okay?” Yuuri asked tentatively. Even though it was hardly the first time they had done this, Yuuri always made sure Victor was comfortable before going too far.

“More than okay, my love,” Victor reassured him. He loved how tender Yuuri was in moments like this and he, in turn, treated Yuuri with the same tenderness when their roles were reversed.

Yuuri smiled softly before pouring the cool gel onto his fingers. He warmed it for a few seconds, wrapped his free arm under Victor’s leg, and then circled his slicked fingers gently around the sensitive entrance.

Victor jolted from the touch and Yuuri shushed him with a loving kiss to his thigh.

“I’ve got you, love,” Yuuri assured him, words slightly muffled against his warm pale skin as he slowly pushed in a single finger. Yuuri could feel Victor tense, but only for a moment before he relaxed into the touch.

“I’m going to make you feel _so good_ ,” The dark-haired man cooed to his lover, nuzzling into the leg that rested against his shoulder as he began a slow pace.

“You always do,” Victor gasped, meeting each stroke with an urgent thrust of his hips.

Taking that as a signal to move faster, Yuuri increased his pace and wrapped the fingers of his free hand around Victor’s hardness. He stroked in time with his fingers, causing Victor to grasp at the sheets. Soon he inserted a second finger and crooked them to press into the spot that had Victor’s head buzzing.

“Yuuri!” He cried out, digging the heel of his free leg into the mattress and pushing his hips off the bed. “Please, love I’m not going to last like this.” His voice was thick, desperate and wanting. Yuuri worked him open just a little longer before pulling out and standing to remove his own pants. He was straining against the fabric, throbbing with arousal and slick with pre-cum but he hard hardly taken notice as he took Victor apart bit by bit.

Yuuri swiftly discarded his trousers and underwear in one move and grabbed the bottle of lube from the bed. He poured a generous amount into his hand and slicked himself up. The cool gel made him shiver delightfully as he stroked himself a few times, his head rolling back a bit and eyes sliding shut as he rubbed his thumb over his head.

“Don’t forget about me,” Victor pouted, bringing Yuuri’s attention back to him.

“I could never,” He smiled as he crawled back on top of the bed, causing Victor to back up a bit. Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hips, pulling him closer. He leaned over Victor, supporting himself on one arm and bowed down to take Victor’s lips in his own, who responded by wrapping his arms around the man and pulling him closer. With his other hand Yuuri lined himself up and gently rocked his hips into his lover.

Victor tensed again, his noises muffled by the mouth over his own, as Yuuri carefully worked into him. Once the dark-haired man was hilted he began peppering his fiancé with sweet and tender kisses over his face and neck, giving him time to adjust.

“Are you alright?” He asked in-between kisses, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Victor brought a hand to caress Yuuri’s face.

“Never better,” He smiled up at the man he absolutely without question adored.

Yuuri kissed the palm of Victor’s hand, moving experimentally. The sharp gasp and tight grasp on his shoulders silently urged him to continue. He rolled his hips in an eager pace, eliciting pleasured cries from both of them with each wanting thrust.

Victor’s head lolled to the side, Yuuri’s name falling from his lips like a mantra as he tightly gripped his lover. Yuuri kissed hot, wet kisses along his neck, never ceasing in his delicious movements.

“So beautiful, so good for me, my Vitya,” Yuuri murmured deliriously against damp skin; Victor moaned in response as Yuuri lifted one of his legs and hooked it on his shoulder, going impossibly deeper.

“Oh god, _yes_! There, _right there_!” Victor cried, arching up into Yuuri’s chest as he hit his sweet spot again and again. His nails dug deep into Yuuri's muscled back. With just a few relentless strokes Victor came between them in a hot mess.

Yuuri’s movements became frantic and needy, chasing his own release. His hips stuttered in their rhythm, a tell-tale sign of his impending climax, and with one deep thrust nearly collapsed on the man underneath him in a sweaty, panting, satisfied heap.

The two of them lay intertwined for some time, Victor running his hands through Yuuri’s thick sweat slicked hair and exchanging languid, adoring kisses as they allowed their heartbeats to return to a normal pace.

Just as they could feel the sweat on their bodies beginning to dry, leaving a salty stickiness on their skin, Yuuri lethargically rolled himself off his fiancé and reluctantly peeled himself from the bed to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom.

Once cleaned the two wasted no time crawling into the welcome coolness of the bedding. Victor pulled Yuuri into him as soon as his body hit the bed and pressed his lips to the back of the man’s neck in a tender kiss. Yuuri hummed contently and snuggled impossibly closer. The silver medal still hung around Yuuri’s neck, the cold surface warmed with body heat. Victor lifted the trophy and kissed it once more.

“You do look stunning in silver, my Yuuri,” Victor cooed, “But I still think you were born to wear gold,” He smiled as he interlaced his fingers with his fiancé's ring hand, pulling it up to place a kiss upon the glittering ring. Yuuri replied with a fond smile of his own.

“I’ve already won the only gold that matters,” He purred as he brushed his lips against the warm metal of Victor’s own ring.

“Even so, I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll go easy on me,” Victor said playfully, tracing circles into Yuuri’s skin with his unoccupied hand.

“In your dreams, Nikiforov,” Yuuri laughed. “You better get used to wearing silver, because it’s the only colour you’ll be seeing for a long time.”

“Bring it on, Katsuki,” The Russian challenged, warmth pooling in his chest.

Several moments passed in the comfortable silence of sated bliss, their breathing becoming slow and heavy with sleep.

“I love you,” The silver-haired man sighed contently in Russian as he nuzzled into the crook of Yuuri’s neck.

“Love you too,” The dark-haired man responded in Japanese, the words heavy with sleep.

The next day the couple nearly missed their flight after wasting away the morning hours lazily enjoying the warmth of each other. Finding the willpower to untangle themselves for more than a few minutes proved to be a much more difficult feat than it should have been. It wasn’t until late afternoon, once they had managed to retrieve Yuuri’s suit jacket and glasses and had boarded their flight that Victor had decided to check his social media accounts, only to find Phichit had posted numerous pictures of him and Yuuri. They were a little more than tipsy. Yuuri groaned at the photos, muttering something along the lines of ‘not again’ to which Victor assured him it was the most wonderful night of his life.


End file.
